The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. Neither combatant could use his sword; and in strength the fugitive was evidently superior to his antagonist. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. “Indeed,” she said, “it was very fortunate that I should have met you this afternoon. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. Your husband could have told you that. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room.
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